


I'll Destroy Your Pathetic, Make-Believe World (Mystic Messenger One Shots)

by gizibe



Series: Mystic Messenger One Shots [1]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Attempted Murder, Bad Ending, Character Death, Eating Disorders, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kidnapping, Memory Loss, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Murder-Suicide, Spies & Secret Agents, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-01 17:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15778875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gizibe/pseuds/gizibe
Summary: This will be a collection of one shots from the Mystic Messenger fandom. I am writing these in between working on “Dark Paradise”, my other MysMe fic. The chapter titles will include the names of the character(s) the stories primarily revolve around. Some may have more than one part, some may seem to be a continuation from a previous one, but they’re all ultimately too disconnected to be considered a proper story.Please pay attention to the tags! Some users may find some of the content triggering, and there will be no warnings before chapters to avoid spoilers. These are not fluffy, warm one shots. I am doing the Savior's work by bringing you hopelessness and despair.





	1. 707: Spare Me Just Three Last Words

****“ _Do not move!_

 

 _Just stay right there! Okay? I’m coming for you!_ ”

 

The short call had ended abruptly, with Luciel frantically attempting to explain what was going on. The line had been rather noisy, as the hacker undoubtedly was busy piling his equipment into the trunk of his baby, but through the panic in his voice MC had come to understand the severity of the situation she’d found herself in:

 

She had been sitting, eating, sleeping, all of this time, on top of an armed bomb. Rika’s apartment was a _literal_ bomb. The kind that could, apparently, explode at a moment’s notice because someone had disarmed the so-called “special security system”. It didn’t help that there was also apparently a chance of the hacker sneaking in while the system was down, putting her at an even greater risk.

 

As if dying in a fiery explosion wasn’t bad enough.

 

Even if she was trembling while listening to the dial tone on the other end after Luciel had hung up, MC tried to keep it together. She glanced to the door, wondering if she should just--- _No_! Luciel had warned her that stepping outside could trigger the system to explode, as well as the risk that the hacker could’ve been waiting for her to do just that.

 

But that meant she couldn’t do anything but sit there! Sit there and wait. . . _For what_ ? For Luciel to _hopefully_ arrive in time before anything bad happened? Something bad like. . . **Boom**!

 

The chill that ran through MC had her stumbling to her feet, clutching around the back of the couch as she moved around it and made for the kitchen. Her throat suddenly felt at risk of closing up, and she felt this unreasonable urge to attempt to clear it with a gulp of water, even if she logically knew the reason she suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe was because she was hyperventilating.

 

She staggered into the kitchen, the panic attack taking hold of her completely as she grabbed onto the edge of the sink and just held herself there for a moment. She couldn’t even bring herself to reach up into the cabinet for a cup, instead could only sink to her knees in front of the counter. Her breathing was ragged, her skin felt clammy, and she could hear a distant ringing in her ears.

 

The sound startled her, making her jump to her feet in alarm as she imagined that the sound was the alarm system going off. She fled the kitchen while holding onto the walls for support and felt her way back into the living room, where she looked back and forth between the window and the door multiple times, all at once relieved to know she was still very much alone, but also terrified that Luciel hadn’t arrived yet.

 

Hadn’t he said he was on his way? How much time had passed since then? It seemed to her as if time were moving through molasses; as if she had slipped outside of her body and was watching everything unfold like a member of the audience, held in suspense. None of this seemed real, and if Jumin hadn’t called her at _exactly_ that moment to check in on her, causing her to dive for her phone still sitting on the couch, MC might have gone running out that front door in a blind frenzy.

 

“. . . Is everything alright?” Jumin’s smooth baritone asked her calmly over the other end, after sensing the hysteria in MC’s voice when she answered, “I saw what Luciel said in the chat room about the special security system.” Thank God for his ability to stay calm at times like this. The CEO-in-line was able to talk MC down from her high, allowing her to sink back into the couch feeling as if the attack had drained every ounce of strength she had once had.

 

“I’m tired now, Jumin. . .,” MC sighed into the receiver, closing her eyes as her head fell backwards against the cushion, “I’m going to rest for a little bit while I'm waiting for Luciel to get here. Hmm? Oh, I’ll be fine. Yes, I promise I’ll call you if anything happens. Don’t worry. Luciel said he would protect me, and I trust him.”

 

Reluctantly, Jumin let her off the phone and, at last, MC was able to flop down fully onto the couch and work on keeping her breathing steady. She still didn’t know how much time had passed in between when Luciel had called her and then, but she was sure he’d be there any moment now. The Great God Seven would be able to fix this, and he’d keep her safe just like he’d promised.

 

Not only that, MC reminded herself with the tiniest of smile, but she’d finally be able to meet him in person. The mysterious 707, Defender of Justice, who she had spent the last seven days getting to know. . . and shamelessly flirting with. He was eccentric, comical, kind-hearted. . . and, yet, MC had a feeling there was more to him than what meets the eye.

 

She was determined to figure out what exactly that was, and to help him, if he needed it (which she sensed he did), as soon as they were able to meet and talk for the first time.

 

The sound of glass shattering drew her attention to the living room window, a masked figure climbing in among the wreckage before she could even react to the sudden intrusion. The moment it registered, however, that someone had just burst in through the window and was now crossing the threshold towards her, MC was on her feet and had taken a defensive position on the opposite side of the couch.

 

“I see that you are surprised to see me, Princess,” the hacker taunted her, as his boots crunched the broken glass beneath them. MC stared him down, one hand clutching her phone, the other feeling behind her for something, anything, that she could use to defend herself. The pretty, little succulent sitting on top of the entertainment center toppled over onto the floor and broke, and MC herself stumbled backwards into the stand and nearly knocked the television off.

 

Her hand still came up empty.

 

“Shh,” the hacker hushed her, his voice eerily soft as he circled around the furniture and gradually walked her back into a corner. He held up something that he had been holding in his hand the entire time and, as MC slowly began to register what it was, he motioned to the phone still clenched in her palm and urged her, “How about we make a quick phone call together, hmm, Princess?”

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Meowwww~_

 _Meowwww!_ ”

 

In the middle of speeding down the freeway, Luciel nearly leapt out of skin when his cell suddenly started ringing. His gaze darted down to the device in his lap, expecting to see Vanderwood’s name or even Jumin’s, but his eyes widened when he saw MC’s name instead.

 

Immediately, he released one hand off the steering wheel and grabbed for the rectangular device, juggling to bring it hurriedly to his ear and swiping the ‘accept’ key with his thumb.

 

“What’s wrong?!” Luciel worriedly wailed as he answered the call, pressing the phone between his shoulder and ear so that he could keep both hands on the wheel when the vehicle threatened to veer off the road in his excitement, “Did something happen?!”

 

“A-Ah. . .,” MC’s voice greeted him from the other end, apprehensive and meek. He could hear her adjust the phone in her hand against her cheek, as well as hear the breath she’d been holding when she released it shakily into the mouthpiece.

 

“I just wanted to see how close you were to being here?”

 

Luciel hesitated, listening closer to the heavy breathing of the woman on the other end of the line, able to identify the nervousness in her tone easily enough. She wasn’t hiding it; if anything, she seemed to be struggling to conceal her anxiety, and at that the hacker breathed his own sigh.

 

“Don’t worry,” Luciel tried to reassure her, even as his own voice wavered with confidence, “I am almost there. Everything is going to be fine, MC. I _promise_! S-So. . . Just, wait for me a little longer, okay?”

 

There was silence on the other end, long enough that the red head had shifted higher into his seat and was about to ask if everything was really okay, when MC finally spoke again,

 

“H-Hey, Luciel? There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you. . . For a while now.”

 

Raising his brow, Luciel turned off the highway, taking the exit that would lead him straight to Rika’s apartment. He was only five minutes away, at most, and wondered what she had to tell him that was suddenly so urgent.

 

“Yeah?” the hacker queried as he impatiently came to a stop at a traffic light, “What is it, babe? Can’t it wait until later?”

 

“N-No,” MC stammered, and Luciel could hear hear swallow loudly in the background. He couldn’t help but smile at that moment, imagining her flustered and picturing how cute she looked when she was nervous. . . Even if this wasn’t an ideal situation for either of them. He couldn’t wait to be able to hug her and reassure her that everything would be okay soon. He could afford that much, right? Before Vanderwood and the Agency found him. . .

 

He just wanted to hold her, at least once, and he wanted to make sure, when he left her, she was safe.

 

“Okay, so, what is it?”

 

Taking a deep breath, MC said something quickly, but it was far too low for the red head to catch. “Huh?” Luciel huffed, pressing his ear closer against the receiver, “What was that? You’re whispering!”

 

He could hear the frustrated groan that came from her and smirked. Damn, she was just too cute! Once again taking a deep breath, steadier this time, she finally blurted out,

 

“I love you, Seven!”

 

 **Holy shit**. . .! Luciel had to do everything in his power not to slam on the breaks, and even then the cars behind him honked and waved their fists angrily. His heart was pounding in his chest as he tried to register what she’d just told him, his ears turning a shade darker than even the color of his hair. He slowly managed to regain his composure, convincing himself that MC was only teasing him. . . Right? Even if this was the worst possible moment to do so. . .

 

“Even if you tell me that you love me, I won’t buy you burritos,” Luciel laughed awkwardly into the receiver, shifting the phone onto his opposite shoulder and adjusting his grip on the steering wheel when he realized he’d been squeezing it, “B-Besides. . . Is this really the time to be making jokes, MC?”

 

“I’m sorry.” MC’s voice trembled on the other end, and Luciel stiffened when he heard her sniffle. Once. Twice. Silence spread across the line, and in that moment the hacker was able to hear her as she began to weep, softly at first, into the other end of the call.

 

“H-Hey,” Luciel gulped, running his free hand through his hair restlessly, “W-What’s that about? Don’t say sorry. . . Don’t cry. . . Are you scared? I am almost there, babe. Seriously, I’m about to turn onto your road.”

 

Just like he told her, Luciel turned, at that moment, onto the road in front of Rika’s apartment. He could see the building now from his window and parked his car down the street from it, knowing he’d need to move it even further once he had brought his equipment inside, before Vanderwood had the chance to track the GPS. He opened the driver’s door and stepped out, already moving around back to the trunk.

 

“L-Luciel!” MC blubbered and the hacker froze where he was standing, the trunk ajar in front of him and his hand frozen over his laptop, “Luciel, I meant it! I love you! I love you _so much_! L-Listen, I don’t have much time, b-but--!”

 

The sound of her voice became distant as Luciel turned and looked up at the building, adjusting his striped glasses and pinching his eyes together as he tried to focus in on the window of the apartment. Not that one. No, that not one either. It was the third floor, the second apartment to the---

 

He felt his blood run cold when he saw the curtains billowing out of the shattered window, and could see MC’s back where she was pressed up against the broken frame, still holding the phone against her ear. In the background, he could still hear her voice speaking to him, even as his ears started ringing out in warning.

 

“---You have to--- live--- both of us-- Luciel? You’re--- person---! Promise me--- you’ll---”

 

It was hard to make out from the angle on the ground, but it looked like someone was there with MC, inside of the apartment. The phone in Luciel’s sweaty palm felt like it was going to slip from his grip any second, and only the increasingly desperate sound of MC’s sobbing was what kept him from dropping it entirely as he darted out into the street.

 

“MC,” Luciel breathed shrinkingly, “Is someone. . . Is someone there inside the apartment with you?”

 

Instead of MC’s voice, Luciel could hear a man’s laughter in the background, the hacker’s maniacal jeering taunting him. The world tilted and Luciel found himself moving, his car and all his equipment abandoned, towards the apartment as if he were treading through deep water. He’d been too late. . .! The hacker had her, and from the sound of MC’s helpless weeping, he was threatening her!

 

“D-Don’t. . . Don’t touch her!” Luciel roared into the receiver, barely jumping out of the way in time when a car drove out in front of him, blaring their horn at his carelessness as he continued to stumble across the street.

 

“ **DON’T YOU DARE LAY A SINGLE FINGER ON HER**!”

 

“Oh,” the hacker’s voice provoked him, coming closer to the receiver until his breath mingled with that of MC’s, “I haven’t, and I don’t intend to. There’s no need for me to do that. **I don’t have to touch her to hurt her** . Listen, Luciel. . . _You’ve lost_. Can you just take a moment to relish how that feels? The feeling of despair. . .

 

“Or, better yet. . . How about you sit back and watch as I take everything away from you?”

 

“W-What. . .?”

 

The ground beneath Luciel’s feet quivered violently at that moment, and Luciel found himself toppling over onto the pavement as, all around him, car alarms started to blare from the force of the. . .

 

Jerking his head upwards, he watched in horror as flames billowed out of the windows all along the third story, the structure of the building itself collapsing upon itself as the entire floor was obliterated in the force of the blast. Debris started to fall all around him, bits of broken glass and crumbled sheetrock.

 

Shattered dreams, lost opportunities, smiling faces, gone up in a blaze of smoke.

 

The other end of the phone clicked and the line went dead, and the empty sound of static on the other end, followed by the operator’s cheerful voice as she chimed, “your call cannot be completed as dialed---”, would haunt Luciel forever.


	2. Saeran: Me, You, And My Medication

In Saeran’s life, there’s always been some kind of bitter pill to swallow. During his childhood, it was their mother’s abuse, both physical and emotional, and the hatred of their infamous father. Next came the abandonment, feelings of resentment for being left behind when his brother left. Later on, Rika’s manipulation and frequent castigation that had left him emotionally unstable; cracked; scarred.

 

Once he’d been liberated from Mint Eye and hospitalized, he’d traded figurative pills for literal: Zoloft, Ativan, Lithium, Seroquel. Every day, Saeran tilts his head back and gulp down one after another; one pill, two pills, three pills, four… He has lost count of how many different medications he has tried during the course of his inpatient; how many different combinations and how many sleepless nights he’s spent knelt over a toilet, retching from the side effects the drugs give him. 

 

He dislikes the psych meds and their side effects almost as much as he hated what the Elixir did to him, but he keeps taking them because he knows they’re meant to  _ help _ him. Lately, the other side of his subconscious, the one that was hurt his loved ones, is quieter these days. He doesn’t want to disappoint his brother by going back on his treatment schedule. He doesn’t want to lose the trust of the R.F.A., which was given and earned reluctantly. 

 

Most of all, he doesn’t want to lose  _ her _ .

 

Every day since he was first transferred to this institution, Saeyoung came to visit him. He always brought his girlfriend along: a saint-like woman, patient and understanding. Saeran had lashed out at her at first, while his mind was still a mess from the Elixir he was detoxing off. Back then, he’d called her all sorts of cruel names: moron, fool, dimwit. He’d belittled her for being too trusting; too forgiving; too  _ nice _ . 

 

How could she sit there and smile at him after everything he’d done to his own brother, done to the R.F.A., and done to her? How could she tolerate being in the same room as him without trembling, knowing he had literal blood on his hands? She’d seen V’s body, watched the life drain out of his eyes while the Savior-- no, Rika-- had screamed. He’d pointed the gun at her, too, his palm sweaty and shaking, and threatened that she’d be next.

 

“ _ Your smell, your face, everything about you irritates me! _ ”

 

Despite everything, there she was, every day without fail. Sometimes, she came alone when Saeyoung had to work. The two of them were still attempting to relocate where his brother’s former associates couldn’t find them. She’d chipperly enthused to him about how they were all going to live together “once he got out of here”, in a quaint, little house in the countryside, where the skies were cloudy and bright blue and Saeran would have his own garden to “plant to his heart’s content”.

 

It was all too idealistic. It was sickening, her unbreakable optimism, and yet, at the same time, it was that same optimism that got Saeran through those bleak days. Her voice was always gentle and soothing; maternal, in a way his own mother and Rika had never been. She was genuine and honest. She was truly a kind-hearted woman, beautiful and ethereal, and it was no wonder Saeyoung loved her.

 

Loved her more than there were stars in the sky and fish in the sea. Needed her more than the waves needed the moon, or more than the Earth needed the sun to survive. She was his whole universe. Her breaths became the radiant Milky Way.

 

That’s why, the most bitter pill that Saeran had to swallow revolved around  _ her _ . Every day, his thoughts became a little clearer, and the familiar image of her sitting at his bedside and quietly reading a book became a  _ necessity _ . He’d watch as her narrow fingers turned the page; caught the glint of the band on her wedding finger. 

 

Oh, right, Saeyoung had proposed to her recently, hadn’t he?

 

Every day, he swallows that pill, the one that tells him that she can never be his, because he knows he  _ has  _ to: for Saeyoung, for MC. Both of them have already sacrificed so much for his sake that he feels unworthy of even thinking of her in that way. Isn’t it wrong, to be in love with the woman that is to be his brother’s wife? Isn’t it selfish, to feel empty whenever she leaves, jealous of his own brother as he imagines her returning home and sharing the bed with him?

 

The two of them have always been a mirror image of one another, and yet, once again, Saeyoung is the reflection that positively shines, and Saeran is cast in the shadow caused by his bright illumination.

 

Every day, he takes his long list of medications and swallows them down, with his love for her being at the forefront. Every time she enters his room, he steels himself: it hurts him to see her, but he is also in pain she she is not near. Each and every day, the pill feels worse; begins to feel jagged when it goes down, and is increasingly harder to swallow. Sometimes, he feels as if it might rise back up his throat, and he worries that all those repressed feelings of his might spill out like word vomit.

 

Knowing she's happy with Saeyoung, and not with him, is a constant reminder of where he fucked up. It is his inspiration every day to continue to take the medications that make him listless, dumb and lethargic, to make sure that he never falls back into his old ways. Back when he hurt her, when it was just the two of them alone at Mint Eye. Back when he’d just been Ray, and she would light up the room with her smile whenever he brought her flowers or a meal he’d prepared just for her. 

 

Back when, because of him, Rika had been allowed to hurt her because of the mistake he had made in loving her  _ too _ much. The Elixir haf made her sick;  _ too _ sick. Saeran knows that doesn't remember him; doesn’t recall the time when it had been just the two of them, struggling to survive, fighting against the darkness that loomed inside his fractured psyche.

 

Perhaps, that was for the best. She didn’t need to remember the things he’d said to her; the things he’d done to her; the pain she’d endured because he’d been unable to protect her. If he hadn't sent her to the R.F.A. when he had; hadn’t sent her to his brother, where he knew she'd be protected, who knows what Rika would've done to her.

 

What  _ he  _ would've done to her. 

 

MC notices the forlorn expression on his features and sets her book down in her lap. She says something, something light and comforting, and reaches out her hand to grasp his own. Saeran smiles, if ever so slightly, and swallows hard. The bitter-tasting pill settles in his stomach and starts to dissolve. 

 

He loves her so much, he realizes, and that’s the worst side effect of all.


	3. Jumin: The Devil's Command

“P-Please,” MC trembled, big, fat tears rolling down her stained cheeks one after another, dripping down her chin and wetting the remnants of her torn blouse, “Please, don’t do this, Jumin. . .”

 

Everything around them was in shambles. The once orderly penthouse was unrecognizable, the fastidious organization he’d prided himself in thrown to the wind. Glass crunched beneath the sole of his polished dress shoes as he approached her, the stem of a wine glass in one hand and cool metal in the other. He knelt down in front of her; knelt down to her level, and when he reached out to stroke her cheek with the side of his glass, she cowered and withdrew from his touch as if burned.

 

Frustrated with her rejection, he did something he never thought he’d be able to do: he _ struck _ her with the side of his hand instead, spilling wine all over the pristine, white carpet beneath them. The now emptied glass plunged to the ground beside her, shattering into tiny, sharp-edged pieces. MC wailed, holding her bruised cheek and stared down at the ground instead of at him, more tears joining the robust-flavored mess on the floor. 

 

Immediately, he felt regret. It felt wholly wrong to mark her in such a barbaric fashion: even now, she’s the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes upon and his desire to coddle her; to protect her, was still as strong. But, she’d angered him with her outright betrayal. How could she, when he needed her the most? Elizabeth the 3rd was still missing and all he’d wanted to do was  _ protect _ her. How come she hadn’t been able to understand that everything he had done, had been for her own good?

 

Besides: he’s committed far worse this evening already. The evidence laid behind them in a crumpled heap: still, breathless, unmoving.

 

_ The doorbell chimed and, urgently, MC left the posh couch where she’d been sitting and crossed the threshold to the door. She opened it and was greeted by a familiar, worried face, one that drew her into his arms almost immediately to comfort her as she broke down tears right then and there. _

 

_ “Shhh,” Zen eased her, stepping inside of the penthouse and kicking the door closed behind him carelessly, “It’s alright, MC. I’m here for you. Jumin is still gone, right?” _

 

_ “Y-Yes,” MC answered, her frightened voice trembling. Zen released her and held her at arm length, taking note of her dried out and pale complexion; her sunken eyes; her gaunt frame. She hadn’t been sleeping, hadn’t been eating. Jumin had her terrified, locked inside his apartment and at the mercy of his twisted form of love.  _

 

_ “. . . I wish you would’ve called me sooner,” he told her honestly, and MC wailed in despair, “Z-Zen, I wanted to, but he needed me! I thought-- I thought that I could help him!” _

 

_ “You’re not a saint, MC,” Zen chided her, shaking his head and pulling her close once again, holding her tighter than before,“You don’t have to shoulder this alone. Everyone has been so worried about you! Jumin. . . He needs professional help right now, not you. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for his sake.” _

 

_ “B-But I, I love him, I--” _

 

_ “This isn’t love,” Zen warned her clearly, matter-of-factually, squeezing her shoulders until she understood, “This? This is abuse.” _

 

_ Even as her heart broke, she knew that what her dear friend was telling her was the truth. Jumin was a good man, yes, but right then he just wasn’t himself. He had a darkness that he needed to work out, but not by locking herself inside of his penthouse and threatening to leave her chained to the bed or locked in the cage he had kept Elizabeth the 3rd.  _

 

_ Perhaps one day, when he had worked through his demons, they could start over again. B-But, right now, she needed to get away from him before he did something. . . irreversible. _

 

_ His darkness. . . It terrified her. She had looked up close and personal into the depths of those blackened eyes and had felt true fear, as well as worry, for the man she loved. . . had once loved. _

 

_ Even though he wanted to comfort her for longer, until she stopped shaking in his arms at least, Zen had to urge her to move into the bedroom and helped her to gather the few things that she had brought over with her. Jaehee was waiting for them just outside, keeping the security at bay with threats of involving the police. They’d reluctantly let him in to see her and now, they were going to let her leave with him, regardless of what their boss had told them. _

 

_ If that had any shred of morality, they’d do what was right and let them pass without escalating things. _

 

_ However, before they had even finished packing her things, the security system chimed and announces the arrival of another visitor inside the penthouse. MC looked up sharply from where she was knelt, packing things into an oversized, canvas bag, and stared at the silver-haired actor with horror written across her face. _

 

_ “Shhh,” Zen tried to soothe her, running his fingers through her tousled hair in an effort to help her to relax, “It’s probably just Jaehee. Stay here, okay? I’ll go out and check. You just finish packing.” _

 

_ “O-Okay,” MC replied, biting her lip worriedly as Zen turned on his heel and exited the bedroom, closing the door behind him. She tried to reassure herself with what he had said, imagining it was just Jaehee entering to make sure they hurried along, and continued to shove her things into the bag in front of her with renewed haste. _

 

_ However, a sudden noise outside the bedroom startled her, followed by the sound of raised voices as two people argued just outside. Letting her fingers abandon the half-finished job in front of her, MC rose shakily to her feet and slowly, nervously, crossed the room to the door, leaning her ear against the wood grain to listened in as her hand anxiously gripped the handle but couldn’t bring herself to open it. _

 

_ “--- You’re crazy! MC does not belong to you! She’s not a cat, she’s a human being! You can’t just keep her locked up here like that furball!” _

 

_ “You don’t know what is best for her,” she heard Jumin’s voice retort, and her blood ran cold. He had come home already?! But he was supposed to still be out looking for Elizabeth! “I am trying to protect her. There is a hacker out there who wishes her harm, if you haven’t already forgotten, as well as two jealous women who might take advantage of her in order to get to me.” _

 

_ “She was just fine back at the apartment,” Zen snarled, running his fingers through his hair in frustration with the aloof man in front of him, “Luciel was keeping an eye on her! Both he and V said that the apartment had the best security and reassured us all she’d be safe there! You even agreed back then!” _

 

_ Jumin turned his back to the actor, drifting across the livingroom to the cabinet that housed his favored wine. Seeing him there, back turned, casually pouring himself a glass as if none of this was happening in his own little world, pushed Zen past his boiling point, and in a rage he bellowed, _

 

_ “I’m taking her with me, Jumin! I’m going to take her back to the apartment. Luciel already told me the address, but I’m not going to let you know. You need to stay away from her until you get your fucking head straight! You’ve got her terrified! Have you even looked at her recently? She looks like a ghost!” _

 

_ “You’re not taking her anywhere, Zen,” Jumin replied coolly, corking the bottle once his glass was full and then returning it to the cabinet in a calm manner. His hand went into the drawer beneath, pulling it open to fish out an object as the man behind him scoffed, _

 

_ “Oh, yeah? Watch me, then! Watch me march her right out in front of you and out that god damn door! Sheesh! Fucking lunatic. . .” _

 

_ Zen turned back towards the bedroom, shaking his head in disbelief as he started to walk to the closed doors. “MC?” he called, assuming she’d probably heard all the commotion and was cowering from it all. He was so close now, reaching out to take the handle and let himself back inside, all while doing the best he could given the situation to reassure her, “Everything is going to be okay. Let’s leave, alr---?” _

 

**_BANG_ ** _! _

 

Jumin rose to his feet, shaking the bit of wine that had dribbled onto his hand off and turning back around to pace the length of the room once more. “You’re making this so difficult, MC,” he lamented, shooting her a pitying, scornful gaze, one that would’ve tugged at her heartstrings had she not been so terrified of him at that moment.

 

While Jumin was busy pacing, MC lifted her gaze and wiped her nose onto her sleeve, only to burst into tears anew when she spotted the graphic scene that had been obscured behind the Director’s kneeling form earlier.

 

Bleeding out onto the living room rug, all his blood run dry, Zen hadn’t moved in the last ten minutes or so. Every lock of his handsome, silvery hair was floating in a puddle of his own blood, and with his hunched back turned towards her, she wasn’t able to see his face. He hadn’t spoken a word in that time, no matter how desperately MC had begged him to talk to her; to let her know that he was still with her, and that he hadn’t just. . .

 

Hadn’t just died for her.

 

Jumin’s grip on the pistol in his hand tightened when he saw her staring at the crumpled body across the room, returning to her side almost at once. He swept MC to her feet, pulling her with him into the bedroom and away from the scene played out in the other room, even as she kicked, screamed and struggled against him all the while. He was much stronger than her, and it wasn’t difficult for him to pull her into his stifling embrace and sit them both down on the edge of the bed.

 

“Shhh,” Jumin soothed her, wrapping his free arm around her waist tightly and pinning her arms at her side in the process, “Shhh, everything is going to be okay, Princess. We don’t need Zen. He only wanted to come between us, you know that, right? He was jealous that you came to me of your own free will. He’s always been jealous of me, as you know.”

 

“J-Jumin!” MC screamed, continuing to struggle even as he squeezed the air out of her lungs with his bear-like hug, “Jumin, you _ killed _ him! Y-You. . . You’re beyond help! You’re a  _ murderer _ !”

“Am I?” Jumin mused solemnly, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully, “. . . Yes, I suppose that I am. Of course, I intend to claim that it was done in self-defense when interrogated by the police. That minor actor burst his way, uninvited, into my home, and threatened my lovely girlfriend---”

 

“He was trying to  _ save _ me from  **you** !  _ You’re _ the one threatening me right now, Jumin!”

 

“It hurts me deeply to hear you say that, MC,” Jumin sighed, and MC could hear the sound of his heart breaking in his voice. How much more could it shatter that evening, hers as well, until there was nothing left to save?

 

“I’ll tell them the truth,” MC rasped, breathless from all her struggling, “I’ll tell them that you murdered him!”

 

Jumin grew dangerously silent in that moment, his grip on her never lessening, before, finally, he released the shaky breath he’d been holding, full of disappointment with her answer. 

 

Suddenly, the barrel of the gun was pressed against the side of her skull, and MC went still in his arms. From the corner of her vision, she eyeballed the weapon wearily, able to feel it grinding into her scalp, still hot from the shot fired earlier.

“I gave you everything,” Jumin lamented brokenly, his emotions spilling over like an overflowing sink, “I gave you all my love, my devotion, my trust, and you. . .! You would’ve rather gone with him, wouldn’t you? Just like Elizabeth. . . You. . . You tried to run away from me, didn’t you?”

 

“W-Wait,” MC back pedaled desperately, blanching when she heard the sound of the gun cocking in her ear, “Jumin, I-- I wasn’t--- I w-wouldn’t---!”

 

“I truly have nothing more to live for,” he mourned, resting his face against her shoulder where she could feel his hot tears spilling over onto her skin, his once somber voice cracking, “If I can’t have you, then I. . .”

 

“Jumin,  **_please_ ** !” MC screamed, hyperventilating in his arms, feeling like she might vomit all over herself, “ **Please** , oh my God, don’t do this!”

 

“Don’t worry,” he attempted to reassure her, nuzzling the crook of her neck, mussing his ebony hair in the process, “I’ll join you shortly after, my love. I won’t let you go alone.

 

Because, without you, I am already a dead man.”

 


End file.
